The Misadventures of Nicole Ballard
by Shadowtree The Awesome One
Summary: Nicole Ballard is a young Cali girl with spunk, sass, and a bad attitude. On her way to her dream college in the U.K. there is an accident and she ends up in Tamriel instead. Now she must fight for survival. Rated T for gore and cursing. Please R&R.
1. Nikiful

_**Chapter 1**_

_**A short Introduction of what it is to be…. "Nickiful"**_

_(A/N) I have COMPLETELY redone this chapter from nearly stratch... well actually I kept alot of things, so there might be a slight stench of mary-sue ,but the mean spiritness of Nicky shines through pretty well, as does the explaination as to why she is the way she is; As per request and the fact I kinda wanted to do it anyways! :D_

_Trust me, the story will get better as it progresses._

_You will all be now reintroduced to our dear rough and tumble"heroine", Nicky, whose questionable, yet strict moral code overrules all other judgements, and whose potty mouth would not only put a sailor to shame but also may make you want to wash out YOUR own mouth with soap. Warning: If you do not curse or swear, you WILL lose your innocence by reading this story._

_**Disclamier: I Do NOT own Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion or any of the characters in this fanfiction with the exception of those I made up including but not pertaining to Nicole Ballard. **_

I stood in front of my bathroom's mirror, my bright green eyes were fixated on the image before me. That image being... Me... of course.

If this wasn't the best day of my life, I'd would say I'm pretty pissed off right now.

Of course, most days I'm pissed off. But right now I'm like... REALLY pissed off. Or at least frustrated...

_'Oh Come ON!_' I thought as a grunt of pain escaped my mouth. I was currently inflicting horrible torture upon myself. I was actually _doing my hair_.

"Almost... Got it..." I continued to grunt and mumble as I moved the rebellious strand of hair into its place. I've never been good with hair, or anything that "girly" for that matter. I lightly sprayed my messy bun with hair spray and put a few more bobby pins (which caused me to break into to a new, fresh chorus of "ouches", I might add) into it to keep it intact. My dark brown hair was long, thick, shiny, and naturally wavy with not so natural (but natural looking) caramel highlights. Sounds nice right?

Well I suppose it is, but you see, thick, wolf-like hair is a royal bitch for a tomboy like me; who couldn't (Or want to) figure out to use a goddamn flat iron until age thirteen! Which, by the way, is absolutely necessary for me to use EVERY. GOD. DAMN. DAY. because my wondrous hair is frizzy even if I take the extra hour of my schedule to dry it. Then again, that's probably because I'm sure there's some "magical trick" to the using a hairdryer and one of those... spiky rolly brushes of pain... which I have yet to figure out.

You know what I don't get? Its called a "MESSY BUN" and yet I have actually to put so much damn effort into it to make it look "good". While your average teenage girl can accomplish what I did in like, five seconds. Meanwhile I'm on the verge of jumping up and down, screaming like a banshee and ripping my hair out in pure rage... Perhaps a more accurate description would be that of a spoiled, rotten, two year old throwing a temper tantrum after being told something they could not do.

I pushed my wispy bangs a little more to the right and sprayed a bit of hair spray for good measure before taking a small step back to fully inspect myself. Just like every day, there I was. My face had a clear complexion (Though admittedly, if I did not use masque every day, then an ugly little army of blackheads would inhabit the skin on my nose) and my Mediterranean descent, which also gave me an very light, but olive tone of skin, allowed me to get a tan easily without turning into a lobster. And WITHOUT having to make heavy usage of sun block too. I was about 5'5. which is technically average height, and I knew allot of chicks shorter than me. But to be honest, I totally felt short half the time. And then there was my smile. You know, the one I almost never wear in public... unless I'm mocking someone. I fully believe my parents when they say I have my father's smile, but my mother's scowl. It doesn't take three guesses to figure out which one was dominant. I was very lucky with a capitol "L". Unlike my siblings who suffered their childhoods getting teeth pulled and braces equipped and removed; I had perfect teeth. Too bad they'll never be the unnatural bleached white as a celebrities no matter how hard or many times a day I brush. And finally there was my weight. I was thinner than most girls and if you asked them why, they'd say I must be anorexic or something. Of course, if you'd ask me I'd say they're just fat, jealous whores.

I eat what I want when I want. No time for breakfast? Why not grab a pop tart or hell, even a handful of chocolate chips. Not hungry at lunch? Don't eat. Feeling peckish half an hour later? Oh. I think that _raw tomato_ in the fridge will make a great snack. No dinner _again_? Hey, grab some carrots, and maybe heat up that big slab of leftover steak your dad brought back from his romantic dinner with mom. He won't miss a few chucks of it. Thirsty? Wash it down with some milk. Does that honestly sound like a super model's diet plan to you? Hell, my doctor says my weight is average, and that I should either A) focus on maintaining it or B) Actually LOSE ten pounds for good measure. Honestly, I'm not too worried. I do not eat three square meals a day, I simply snack all day as I please, which at times, can be a feast or next to nothing. My light scavenger's diet is the result of the absence of even a concept of a family dinner in my household. With the exception of thanksgiving, NO ONE in my family cooked or ate at a table at the same time. It's not that my parents don't love me or my siblings. They just don't love us enough to feed us. Which is fine by me, considering I have ALWAYS been extremely independent. As long as they bring back groceries for me to snack on, I'll survive.

It was no secret I was pretty too.

"Perfect." I stated admiring my reflection once more. A smirk of self-vanity crawled onto my face and I began stuffing bathroom products and jewelry into my purse.

I mean, I had gotten a call from a modeling agency for crying out loud! Not that I could ever, EVER do modeling. Firstly, its too boring. Secondly, the high end, most infamous part of modeling requires me to be about three inches taller (DAMN YOU SHORT GENES!), and thirdly but most importantly; IT. WAS. FOR. SISSIES. I probably could, and would do commercial modeling though... Which, by the way, actually makes more money. AND you get to be on T.V. Hell, people who are drop dead gorgeous but just have an interesting face and/or voice do it all the time. But it also TAKES alot of money to start doing n the first place, and despite my parent's high paid professions in law and business, we were not rich.

All the same I was far superior to _everyone _else! I had always been more intelligent and now I was more attractive too! And I -

I paused in my thinking, staring at myself again, but in surprise. _When did it come to this?_

When had I become such a vain little witch?

Honestly, vainity isn't such a bad thing. Nor is pride. And I carry both of those aspects. I mean, if you met a gorgeous person who told you they thought they were ugly either to pretend humility or because they're self-esteem was just that low wouldn't you roll your eyes in disgust and want to walk away? What? You don't believe it's possible for anyone to be intelligent and good looking? Cause they're people who are. I'm not saying I'm a super genius or anything and God knows I couldn't do basic algebra to save my life. But, isn't it better to think of one's self in an arrogant yet positive light instead of crying in a corner and hating yourself. For fuck's sake! I am practically a pessimist compared to most people, but the realism is that if you mope around and don't take action the shit storm is only gonna get worse. I should know.

I always had a sassy flair mixed with an explosive temper in my personality from the very day of my birth. I have completely inherited my mother's personality. Her personality had been passed down from her father through generations of boys, but then it choose to transfer to the female side. Now don't get me wrong, my gramps was the GREATEST man to have EVER walked this good earth... at least in my eyes. But I'm sure he'd disagree. Mind you, I admired him for qualities which he was very proud, yet also very ashamed of. Grandpa was the kind of guy, who if he had a problem with you, he'd take a baseball bat to your face. Grandpa didn't take shit from anybody. Grandpa was a giant of man at nearly seven feet tall. And if you know ANYTHING of ANYTHING about the character of "dirty harry" you would know the kind of guy grandpa. My grandfather was the real life dirty harry. And for that, dirty harry will always be one of my most favorite heroes of all time.

And yet he was a real sweetheart. Sitting me up in his lap and feeding me sweets. Hugging me, and tickling me until I fell into a submission of giggles. And of course there were the video games. Grandpa introduced my little, naturally feisty and overly imaginative mind into a world where I could be the greatest hero ever; and my little, once somewhat sweet, mind was warped forever. It started with _Spryo the Dragon_ at age five. And that's when school began. At first everything was alright. I was naturally shy though and didn't like too much interaction. Still, I was young, naive, and eager for friendship. I sat down with the other girls. But their talk of barbie dolls bored me into daydreams. One day, I remember, I tried to join into the conversation, and brought up Spryo. They all just stared at me, turned and then began talking with one another. Now, I am still a quiet, introverted person. I dislike, if not despise, being in the spotlight unlike most people who hog it. But to this day, if I actually decide to say something for once you stupid snobs better damn well NOT IGNORE ME! Eventually I just got up and left.

Yeah, I hate people. Especially other chicks.

I moved to the boys table. At first, there was some light resistance from the boys who wanted a girl out of their "party." That resistance was not tolerable and thus was quickly crushed after my five year self identified the lead "rebel" (Who had called me a sissy _girl_) and made a point to call him and I quote "A butt breathed poo head pansy". This insult was then swiftly followed by my tiny, adorable baby fist smashing into his face. The boy, of course, left school that day with a bloody nose and black eye. While I simply went "HUMPH!" and threw my head up indigently while pouting before being dragged away my teacher to be put into the infamous timeout corner. The next day, my presence at the boys table was unquestioned. Although, every once in a while a guy (usually a newer kid) would pop off, and I would have to put him in his place. But it didn't take too long for them to warm up to me. All of us would sing "Boys rule, girls drool except for Nick." Nick. That's what the boys called me. I was a girl, but I was an alpha male. The best part was they played video games. And as we aged, _halo_ became the next big thing on our important agenda. And you know what, I was pretty good. I could beat all of the guys at one point. And the girls, hated me. I did not practice hair, or gossip, or even wear matching clothes. I was different. And that. That made me a target.

But then at middle school they changed. Suddenly no one was screaming "Cootie Face" at the girls on the playground anymore. They actually liked those attention grabbing parasitic snobs. Which screwed my life over. Let's face it. I wasn't a pretty girl. I was a boy. I had dirt all over me constantly. Short, chin length hair with thick bangs that covered my eyes like a shaggy mutt. I was scrawny, and puny. I never brushed my hair, so it frizzed out. Purple glasses hung at the end of my nose. I was losing my eye sight thanks to too many hours in front of the T.V. And while most of the girls had braces and I had perfect teeth, they were blossoming while I was stuck with a little girl's body and had a unibrow!

YES, I ADMIT IT! I HAD A F-U-C-K-I-N-G UNIBROW!

And they took pleasure in reminding of the fact every shitty day. Now I might have had temper issues even then, but I was still innocent... sweet even though I scowled back then. Believe it or not, a curse word, at that age, never even entered my pea brain, even though my fellow students freely indulged in using them. So when I suddenly found myself friendless, betrayed, and bitterly wandering the hallways, disconnected with the entire world and hearing those evil whispers exchanged between those whores as they pointed and laughed, mocking me; you'd better believe I actually took it all for face value. I mean, I WAS ugly now wasn't I? And the early stages of hormones didn't help me at that awkward age either. I remember going home, locking myself in my room and just crying myself to sleep, wishing that I was never born. I flat out hated myself.

But you know what I decided then? Fuck them. Mind you, the shame I felt was so immense I still walked around looking at my feet, intimated by the crowds of people. From the young, devious, but giggly girl I had become a silent, grim, ever scowling shadow. Who simply moved from classroom to classroom as quickly as possible. The teachers were typically fond of me, as because I did not have a social life, I was able to actually do their homework and seemed to be much more well-rounded student. In fact, I was so polite compared to my obnoxious, stupid classmates, my math teacher who was well known to be a hard ass grader willing let a few of my incorrect answers escape his hawk eyed gaze. I wasn't a kiss-ass. But that didn't stop the others from accusing me of being a teacher's pet. As much I would like to say it didn't hurt, it did. Alot. It reminded me that no matter how invisible I _tried_ to be, I was a butt-ugly nerd who escape reality by channeling my rage into the virtual world. Who could ever like me? And all the rage, stress, and sadness crashed around me trying to break me... It didn't matter if I acted nice, polite, had better comebacks, or flat out ignored them. They made their judgement. Hell, any kindness I tried to show to my former guy friends, helping them with their History or English papers was met with more bullying. Kindness is a weakness which will kill those in deadly environment. Frankly, I didn't know what to do; I was too old to start fights in school now without getting suspended. And my dominance seeking heart writhed as I let them bully me. I let them get to me. That made me a victim.

One day, I lost my temper. The stupidest whore of a girl to ever walk the earth was right there, mocking me in the locker room for being a flat chested, ugly, nerd. And when I say whore, I mean it was no rumor that this _middle school child_ had an abortion that year. Susan Flinken, the most popular chick in school. A strawberry redhead whose body was and still is far too advanced. To be honest she was fat. Not tomato, round fat. But clearly her huge boobs and big ass which seemed attractive to guys then, and even now, are a sign of more weight to come. I'll be _shocked_ if the girl doesn't have at least one STD now. Anyway, the stupid bitch thought I was just going to passively walk away again. I was shaking with rage and nervousness. Why the fuck couldn't she just leave me alone?

I regret not throwing a haymaker.

But I did wrap my leg around hers and push her. Her fat ass dropped backwards to the floor like a rock. But because I didn't hurt her enough. Because I was visibly shaking with stress. And because I chose to stare her down, she ran off to tell the teacher on me, laughing the whole way about getting little miss "goody goody" in trouble. Luckily, I did not get in trouble due to her history of bullying. But the rest of my last year wasn't exactly any easier for me.

Each day I prayed that a bolt of lightening would shoot down to smite those betrayers and sluts. And sometimes I wished it would just hit me instead. Life, after all, is full of people like them .But no, putting me down then would be far, _FAR,_ too humane for somebody like me.

And I had my day of victorious return yet to come. To show those shallow, brainless, shitless cowards what happens to losers like them. To show them how much payback can really be the biggest bitch.

After three years of middle school hell on earth, summer came and I decided to stop being a little victim. A brush, new clothes, some contacts, a little makeup, a flat iron, and a good waxing and suddenly I wasn't ugly.

All those painful years, and I had merely been homely this whole time. But now I was a drop dead gorgeous siren. I couldn't even recognize myself. And when high school started, neither could anyone else. I didn't walk into school with my head down, but with a confident, cold stride. Boys, even those traitors, started making up the stupidest reasons to talk to me...

One of them, Kyle, dropped his pen and asked if I had an extra. When I said no and tried to get back to work, he tried to "recover" by starting a conversation with me. He talked, with the biggest, most annoying grin on his face about rumors circulating the school, completely oblivious to my disinterest in what he had to say until...

"OH! I heard that nerdy girl Nicole Ballard moved; She's not at school today."

"I _am_ Nicole Ballard, you dipshit."

I got two words for you. Dumb. Ass.

Needless to say. The horny freak actually laughed and then proceed to tell me "You're not Nicole Ballard, Nicole was an ugly dog" as though I was stupid! Luckily my boat came in. The teacher left the room, and I was given full free usage of the sharp tongue I love so much. Let's just say I humiliated the boy quickly and without mercy. He was ugly and fat and I told him; Who was he to judge me? No guy likes a pretty chick turning them down. They don't expect it either. See, most chick literally NEED to have a boy interested in them at all times. For girls, guys are like money; a good boyfriend makes your life so much more interesting. And for guys, girls mean sex. Get the picture?

On a side note, I did actually punch Susan and made her cry during freshman year, but that's a story for another time.

Most girls do not like being self reliant. But I do. So, really, they were playing with a wild card. And they lost. Sure I didn't get into fist fights anymore. But I finally knew enough of female "politics" to destroy nearly any one's "confidence". Not that they had much anyways.

Kiddies, listen to your mommies and daddies. Popular kids are the biggest, most insecure losers on the block in the end. Now repeat after Aunty Nicole.

**Those who hold such meaningless "power" over others think too highly of themselves while the "outcasts" are born mostly of those who do not give themselves enough credit.**

So what if I'm vain? So what if I'm mean? Assholes deserve everything back tenfold, if you ask me. Making peoples' lives fucking miserable like that for viewing pleasure! Sick bastards.

I know I'd been getting to them too. Susan would twitch and avoid eye contact when we were alone in a hallway or lunch line together. Something I NEVER did even when I was alone and she had her entire gaggle with her.

Yeah, I know sometimes I think those same mean thoughts about nice people. And that's wrong of me. But I never act on it or pick on the weak. I know its horrible, but thinking mean thoughts about nice people is a small sacrifice to pay for the confidence I now posses which people would kill for. And besides, it's not my fault. _THEY _unleashed the monster.

The monster which ushered in a completely new life for me.

Perhaps I should send a thank you card to Susan and her gang.

Of course, I was swarmed with stalkers. You'd think for all my bragging I would get a boyfriend. Truth be told. I only went on one date. I'm picky with guys. And easily bored. The most annoying question to ask is "Who do you like?"

No one.

Nobody would ever believe me when I said those two words, but I say what I mean. Most of the time, I did not have a crush.. And any crush I did have wore away by the end of the week.

So I didn't find a boyfriend. But I DID find a friend. Diane Swane is my blond haired partner in crime. She is my kindred spirit. And, typically, had the same views and hobbies as me. We developed a close and rapid friendship over our common hatred of certain teachers, fellow students, and the stupidity of the world in general.

She was like a nicer version of me who could actually cook. And so we went and we played paintball and video games together. Two "crazy" chicks who open mocked and laughed at others...

Too bad she moved before Senior year.

I shook my head, breaking the internal bittersweet walk down memory lane. Now's not the time to think of such things. It'll only get myself worked up again. Today was a _good_ day too.

I reached inside my smooth, black purse and pulled out a long strip of paper. The words on it were perfect. Typed, of course. I held the plane ticket up to the light rereading the destination stated on it for the millionth time. I stared intensely at it as though to light it on fire. I still couldn't believe this was real. It read "London."

Besides video games, I had another loved interest which was just as nerdy. I was a complete history nut. Ancient history, really. I loved reading accounts of battles mostly. The weapons, the strategy, even the quirks of the generals. It was so fascinating.

I also was in love with the idea of traveling aboard. I wanted to see new places, new people, go on constant adventures; not waste away in some office here. I wanted to be the one to dig up Viking ships and Roman Statues. I wanted to be an Archaeologist. And now, I was going to the college of my dreams to fulfill that desire.

_Just admit it. You __really__ decided to be an Archaeologist because you want to be a female Indiana Jones. _I slipped the ticket back into my purse. My inner me was right, I probably was particually inspired by naiive daydreams inspired by movies and videogames. I reached for a slender bottle of a clear liquid and began to spray a soft mist all over myself.

I consider myself very realistic when interpreting people. But if any innocence in me remains, it is to be found in my childish goals. Dreams, which I'm afraid I'll keep chasing forever. But was that really a bad thing?

I do swimming. I do surfing. I do karate. I do boxing. Believe it or not. I am _not_ even remotely athletic.

Never have been.

Swimming? Did it my whole life, but not strong or fast.

Surfing? Yes, I know how to do it. But my home state of California isn't a giant beach despite popular notions. I've only been once or twice. And between you and me, I hate sharks with a passion...

Karate? Boxing? Just learned the basics. But I really want to continue them.

Video game nerds get bad rep because they waste their time away living in a fantasy world. And alot of the time, that's correct. But I love those adventures. Those superhuman things that one can do either only in a game or with immense real world training. I would give my left leg to be able to do one of the trials on the show _Ninja Warrior_. I wish I had started taking self defense classes earlier. I wish I was a master gymnast, soaring through the air like they were flying. Hell, I'd kill just to be in good shape.

I'll just have to continue to work out as hard as I can. I am not going to pretend to be someone else. I am proud to be the imperfect me. But I can always get better. I won't be happy unless I keep trying.

Perhaps another fault I think pursing activities can help me change was the fact that I am a klutz. There are times, when I go through a doorway, that my big, waterski of a foot hits the side and I stub a toe. In fact. It happens at least once a week. I could not even count the number of bruises I have from falling out of bed when my alarm goes off in the morning. I mean really. I can only hope that one day I'll land on my feet instead of on my ass.

_Hmmmmm... I smell... Vanilla?_ _OH SHIT!_

In my deep thinking I had been spraying myself with vanilla scented perfume. Once again, I used far too much. I hacked and coughed, waving the toxic fumes away from my face. I could only hope the smell hadn't sunk too far into my clothes.

I was wearing a white blouse, and a dark navy blue jeans jacket which matched my skinny jeans. My favorite pair of sunglasses were carefully perched on top of my head. My pierced ears contained a set of matching, cubic zirconium earring studs. But around my neck I wore a simple, silver heart necklace which had a small diamond embedded in it. Another piece of jewelry, A silver, diamond studded wristwatch, was it's matching counterpart. Both were early birthday gifts I had gotten that morning from my parents to celebrate my 18th since I wouldn't be home to celebrate it with them. Probably the most expensive things I'd ever gotten in my entire life.

My plan was to travel Europe for a week, after getting a tour of the campus of my university of course. I was going to be greeted by a college representative as soon as I landed, and since first impressions are ever so important I had to look the part. Although I was worried that the 12 hour trip would take a heavy toll out of me. I had to look and act perfectly. I highly doubt that my greeter will that one in a million person who isn't a complete asshole.

"If you're done staring at yourself, I think we need to get going, your father already put your suitcase in the truck!" I nearly jumped a foot in the air at the sound of my mother's yelling. Oh, she knew me _all_ too well. I sighed, picking up my last carry-ons; my laptop, minty green backpack, and my purse.

"Well, Nicky. Let's go meet destiny." I muttered barely holding back a broad grin of excitement.

Hello.

I am a nerd.

I am not athletic.

I am clumsy.

I am vain.

I am arrogant.

I am wrathful.

I am crude.

I am cynical.

I hate people...

And people hate me.

I am Nicole, Leah, Ballard.

Now kindly fuck off. I have a plane to catch.


	2. Dude Where are my freakin' peanuts?

_**Chapter 2**_

_**Dude… Where are my freakin' peanuts!?**_

_Ten hours, 26 minutes, and 34_ _seconds after the previous chapter….._

Nicky Ballard sat next to her window with a blanket wrapped around her and a pillow snuggly fit between her head and her seat as she finished her email.

_Di, you'd better come visit me ASAP! We can get a Starbucks in the U.K. and then go on an uber shopping spree in London and tour the Tower! Maybe we'll even have a match of lazer tag; I swear I never get sick of pwning you and other n00bs at that! Haha, jk! :D _

_It'll be soooooooooo much fun!_

_Your totally coolest BFF E-V-E-R, "Her Dudeship, the awesome one, etc "- Nicki B._

Nicky pressed the send button on her laptop to relay the message to her best friend and counterpart, Diane Swane. Diane had moved to Virginia a few years ago. She then shut down and packed up her laptop before shoving it below her seat. The plane had already made a stop in Canada to refuel and switch pilots about two hours ago. It was about 6:53 P.M. East coast time and they were flying over the Atlantic Ocean as the sun was setting. Nicky was frustrated and a bit hungry; she'd ordered peanuts from a flight attendant over twenty minutes ago, but hadn't seen the woman since. Normally Nicky would have gotten up and hunted the woman down for those damned peanuts, but she was much too tired. She took advantage of the moment to observe her surroundings. There wasn't much to see really, the plane was much smaller than the ones she'd been on before. There weren't many colorful people on board either. There a couple of business sharks here and there, and two elderly women wearing obnoxious Pepto-Bismol pink dress with big fake flowers and waaaaaaaay too much makeup. But other than that, Nicole thought the tiny plane was seriously under-booked. Nicky placed her headphones on as she yawned and turned to stare out the window. Stars could now be seen within the dusty golden yellows and rosy pinks of dusk, which contrasted with the navy blue clouds and the black sea below the aircraft. Nicole sighed, she wasn't much of an artist, but she loved twilight. Well, not the book series of course. She thought those were complete crap. Nicole buried her head deeper into her pillow as the loud and somewhat irritating voice of the captain boomed from the plane's intercom.

"This is your captain s**p**eaking, we hope you are enjoying your flight and just want to inform you that we seem to be heading into a minor storm…. We should arrive at our destination in about two and a half hours… thank you."

With the music playing softly in her ears, and such peaceful and silent surroundings it's no wonder that Nicole felt her eyelids become heavy, and soon found herself happily snoozing as the pitter-patter of light rainfall could be heard hitting her window.

Twenty-two minutes and 33 seconds later.

_**Boom…Boom…BOOM!**_ Nicole jolted awake to loud yelling and chaos as the plane shook violently. She ripped off her headphones and flung them to the side before wildly looking around, dazed and confused. The few passengers, who had seemed so dull and uninteresting, were now practically bestially climbing over one another in panic!

Nicole could nearly hear her eardrums pop because of their high-pitched screeches. But something wasn't quite right… not all the screeches came from the cabin. Nicole's eyes widened in realization as she turned to face her window once more. The wing was half gone, and the engine was on fire,. And if that wasn't bad enough, the plane was so close to the ocean you could see each black wave begging to snatch up the aircraft and drag it to a watery grave. The way luggage was flying around the cabin (whacking people in the heads I might add), and the speed it was going down, it was clear as day that the plane was spiraling out of control. Nicole's face paled and she gave an involuntary gulp as she couldn't do anything else, but wonder why this was happening to her. From what little she could gather from the yelling of some businessman behind her, it seemed the pilot had experienced some health problem at the same time as lighting struck the left wing. Nicole closed her eyes and leaned back, wanting to scream, but finding herself unable. The dark water was getting closer by the second. She could feel and even _hear _her own heartbeat pumping so hard that it seemed it was trying to burst out of her chest. Everything seemed to slow down and go silent except for that eerie beating sound… It was like watching a slow motion video of a football play on T.V. Some elderly lady getting smacked by her own pink handbag as another skinny businessman seemed to be stuffing his face with doughnuts (gotten from god knows where). Nicole found herself being stuffed in a lifejacket by….someone… she couldn't really tell, she was too busy thinking about how ephemeral and unfair life was to her right now. She was JUST about to turn eighteen for crying out loud! She had worked hard just to be able to see the world and maybe even have a few adventures in her life before she died! This wasn't supposed to happen, not to her! Nicole decided to try and allay herself, it was probably a bad idea to panic like the others.

_Oh God, pleeeeeeeeeeease don't let me just die here, God!_ Nicole mentally begged as the plane seemed only mere feet from the icy waters below.

_Please, please, please! I don't want to die here, that can't have been the plan! This isn't right! _

"I don't wanna die like this…" Nicole hoarsely whispered to the air as the plane hit the water, slamming into it like a tin can on concrete.


	3. Waves Have Feelings too

_(N/A) Yes. This chapter is indeed inspired by bioshock, you've caught me… other than that, ive *ahem* "decided" to switch to first person for awhile…. Help! Shes got me hostage! My Imagination has me hostage!_

_Nicole: Get on with it! *pokes Shadowtree with stick violently*_

_Ehhhhhhhhh maybe I should cut back on the sugar…. _

**Chapter 3**

**Waves have feelings too…**

I watched as the rest of the flaming aircraft sunk beneath the Atlantic. The creepy noise of metal sinking has to be one of the worst sounds you can ever hear. I'm still not sure how the hell I made it out of there… Since my hands are all bloody, I assume I must have made some opening, perhaps forced an exit door or even broken a window; it's amazing what humans can do when they have adrenaline pumping through their veins. I can't remember anything, it all happened so fast, it seems like a blur. But I guess that's unimportant right now….

After all, I am floating all alone in the middle of the ocean with no means of communication whatsoever. And it's cold. And I'm tired. AND I'm bleeding…. Did I mention how terrified I am of sharks? I heard that they can smell a single drop of blood in water from at least a mile away… I think I'm gonna have nightmares after this…

I tried to swim toward a piece of debris floating among the wreckage with the intention of trying to get out of the water as much as possible. Heck I think I thought I saw someone else swimming towards it, and I sure didn't want to be the only "survivor" dying of hypothermia out here…

Perhaps I should consider myself lucky, after all not everyone can say they survived a plane crash, but then again with all facts considered, I wouldn't live too much longer after this to say anything anyways.

So anyways, where was I?

Oh right, swimming…. Well I was about 30 feet away from that floating debris, but apparently the waves had other plans for me….

"Crap!" I stated out loud just as a small, but strong wave managed to force my body underwater. It took about three seconds to reach the surface, but I frustratingly found myself drifting away from my target.

I was SO sure that there was someone else who had managed to reach where I was going, that I tried calling out to them.

"HELLO! OVER HERE!" I yelled as I wildly waved my arms trying to get their attention.

I thought I saw them wave back too, but wasn't sure.

"CAN YOU HEAR ME!?!?" I called, having a difficult time fighting the current to reach them. I couldn't see any signs of response so I called out louder.

"CAN YOU HEAR ME!?!?!" I screamed over the miniature waves which slowly dragged in the in the opposite direction I wanted to go…

"Oh come on!!" I grunted angrily as I attempted to swim harder.

Once again, the waves had other plans for me.

The tiny waves built up and once again dunked me under water… A little deeper this time around though.

_1….2…3….4… _I mentally counted until my head popped up out of the water.

"CAN YOU PLEASE CUT ME A BREAK!!!?" I screeched, having been 'blessed' with a short temper. I was much further away from my destination now. In fact I couldn't even see the plane now or the glow of its flames. A tiny speck was over where I thought the plane wreck should have been, but it was getting smaller by the second. And I had doubts it was real at this point. That was it. I was alone.

The more I started thinking about my situation the more depressed I became. In fact I was so depressed that I started to become overwhelmed by a sickening cramp in my stomach and thought I might start seeing my lunch at any second. I was too tired to swim in any direction, so I concentrated what little energy I had on staying afloat.

I looked up at the increasingly menacing sky and felt my despair overtaken once again by my temper.

Let's just say I made the mistake of unleashing a colorful vocabulary in my justifiable wrath. Boy, if only you know how quickly I regretted those words, because almost as though the sea understood what I had said, A colossal wave that looked like a great black wall rose up to retort my comments by crushing me.

_Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. I'm totally screwed now aren't I? I'm sorry ocean, I didn't mean to be so mean! Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeease forgive me. _ I tried to say. But all that came out of my mouth was a little yelp that sounded like a little frightened animal. Which I was at that point, as far as I'm concerned anyway. I was like the Atlantic's pet guinea pig, its _plaything. _

And that's when the wave came down. Hard. It dunked me beneath the ocean so deep, I wasn't sure which way I was supposed to swim. Not that I could really swim, my muscles were screaming at me to stop all movement, and the overpowering currents had me doing underwater somersaults. Somehow I managed to surface, my head rising out of the dark, icy water, gasping for breath. That lasted about five seconds before I was dunked again.

I think this pattern continued for about four or so more times. Each time I surfaced I desperately sucked in more air, savoring it as though it would be my last… Well I was pretty damn sure it would be. But all dark humor aside, because next time I was dunked I stopped swimming; my body seemed to have been pushed behind its limits and decided to shut down on me. So the ocean had its way with me, tossing me and flinging my semi-conscious body around like a child playing catch. I couldn't see or understand anything that was happening, I could only feel. And finally like a child sick of playing with a toy, I felt my body wash up on shore. Ungracefully tossed away like an old ragdoll, I lifted my head up and coughed out salt water before I finally blacked out.


	4. Wakey, Wakey, Eggs and Backy?

**Chapter 4**

**Wakey Wakey, Eggs and Backy?**

_ It was entirely dark save for the fireplace. In the shadows a figure of an aged man stood, its head bowed deep in thought. Something red around the figure's neck glinted brightly against the firelight as it turned to face me. The figure slowly lifted up its head allowing a clearer view of face by the flickering fireside. The bright, wise, blue eyes looked directly at me and I froze, something about them was frighteningly unnatural. He looked surprised but then smiled as though looking at an old friend. He did not speak. _

_ "I was born 87 years ago. For 65 years I've ruled as Tamriel's Emperor. But for all these years, I've never been the ruler of my own dreams. I have seen the gates of Oblivion; beyond which no waking eye may see."_

_ A flash of light and I saw a land of fire and death where soot rained down from the smoke-filled sky and was inhabited by hideous creatures I immediately knew to be evil. They marched beside the biggest machine I had ever seen which vaguely resembled a battering ram towards a swirling vortex of raw energy... portal? _

_ "Behold. In darkness a doom sweeps the land."_

_ War drums rang in my ear as the machine of war and the army came closer... closer... closer... and ever closer to achieving their goal. I could not let that happen. Another bright flash of light and I was flying high above the sky over the reflective water of a lake. And in the center of that lake, was a glorious, white, stone city with a giant tower which seemed taller than any skyscraper I'd known. _

_ "This is the 27th of Last Seed, the year of Akatosh 433. These are the closing days of the third era and the final hours... of my life."_

_ I saw a girl sprawled out unceremoniously on the floor of the city's much less glorious prison. Her clothes were so familiar yet odd. She was me._

_ "Find her and close shut the jaws of Oblivion..."_

The strange, almost mystical voice echoed through my head. In a trance like state, my mind had barely registered a single word it had as it as much too focused on subconsciously observing its new surroundings. Yet, the entire vision had embedded itself in my memory, almost burnt into it more than my very identity like some primitive, animalistic response pattern passed down throughout generations. I thoughtlessly stretched out to touch warm sand only to find cold floor.

Then I woke up.

"Am I dead?" I softly mused aloud, still lying on my back with my eyes shut closed. For some reason, I could not open my eyes. Still I began to try to piece together my predicament. I was lying on something hard, freezing, and filthy. My clothes were slightly damp and reeked completely of salt water although I could remember why. I felt the tickling sensation of my eyelashes fluttering as I observed two blurry looking lights floating in the air.

_ What the? But I thought my eyes were closed?..._

At first I justified that I might be dead. A transparent vision of a smiling, golden haired, Diana, flashed in my mind and the musical sound of laughter that she would make whenever we were joking rang clear as a bell almost like she was right there in a palpable form. "_Whatever you do, Nicky, don't move towards the liiiiiiiiiiight!..."_

Diana's voice and ghostly apparition faded as quickly as they had appeared and my blurred vision slowly focused on the two floating orbs which turned out to be... a torch?

I finally was able to mentally register the fact that my eyes HAD been open for quite some time. It had simply been dark to see where I was. Wherever that was in the first place of course.

Now that I was at least quasi aware that I probably wasn't dead and my "systems were rebooting" (As I put it), I decided to see if I could physically move. One by one, I began to twitch each finger. I felt a subtle smirk crawl onto my face as each finger gently tapped the roughly textured floor beneath my body. I slowly moved my arms underneath myself in an attempt to sit up.

Bad idea.

My weak limbs whined - No. Demanded I cease all movement at once. I foolishly ignored the demands and promptly forced myself to sit. I was immediately hit with a sudden, yet powerful wave of sickness. If you'd ever been sick in bed with a _baaaaaaaaaaad _case of the stomach flu for an entire week and tried to stand up while experiencing a 101 degree fever, you'd know the general feeling I was experiencing. Except replace "101" degrees with "150" and think more along the lines of a three week illness instead of one.

Symptoms included extreme waves of dizziness which surged through my aching head; my stomach feeling as though someone had twisted it into a pretzel, stuffed it full of glass, and was now viciously punching it; and fits of violent chills shaking my body like I was possessed by some evil spirit. Furthermore, my now adjusted vision began to morph between its "normal" state and complete blindness as head rushes (combined with the other previous effects already mentioned) threatened to knock me back down onto the floor.

I fought back against these wicked and cruel forces of physical limitations, my now screeching body heroically rising up like a mighty phoenix soaring in the air, towering against a thousand desires to just give up and lay down!

I lost.

My weak, wobbling legs could not support my torso. They collapsed so quickly I did not have enough time to acknowledge, much less avoid, the _impending face plant_ as my body lifelessly slumped forwards to the floor. Not that I really cared much at the time because my head hurt too much to focus or fear the incoming pain.

Fortunately. I landed, or at least my head did anyways, on something soft, padded, and all too familiar. After that, I was drifting in and out of consciousness for a few minutes, maybe half an hour, until I finally could once again think coherently. I lifted my head up from off the padded cushion and brushed my ratty, tangled hair out of my face to discover my improvised pillow was actually a bright mint green. My backpack! Then I reached out both my arms to stretch them and wouldn't you know it, I felt something else I recognized right there next to my backpack with my left hand. The smoothness of it told me that this new something could only be my purse. I gently plopped my head back onto my backpack. For what felt like (and probably was) hours I simply lay there, seamlessly transitioning between the state of sleep and alertness in an attempt to restore the corpse I called a body. Although, every time I woke up it would still feel like I was dreaming. Which made sense at the time because of the trouble I had identifying my already impossible to believe surroundings. By the fifth time I had reawakened I felt much stronger than before.

I was ready to try standing again, or at least that's what I hoped. It was now significantly light enough for me to notice a splintery looking table and stool on my left. My arms were able to grab hold and use the table to steady myself as I rose from the floor. Although lightheaded and still very weak, I was pleased to find myself capable of such a feat.

_ Now for the tricky part. _I thought as I released the table from my grasp, attempting to stand independently without any "cheating". I felt my heart skip a beat or two as I swayed and stumbled until I finally found my center of balance. My satisfaction was short lived however because now that I was standing I was able to piece together the dishorted obervations I had made through that miserable night. Although it was still almost too dark to even see my own hand, I noticed that a second source of light was now streaming through my undersized, high window. It was obiviously in the morning in whatever country I was in. Other than that, the crappy living condition of the room I was in, the below freezing temperature, and the iron bars in front of my face it was pretty clear I was- _WAIT JUST A MOTHERTRUCKING MINTUE!_

'Iron bars!' I mouthed hoarsely, dumbfounded. I absentmindedly scratched at an itch on my wrist while trying to recall the events that had occurred up until this point. I had assumed I was in some cruddy third world makeshift hospital. However, now with these _stupid_ iron bars dumbly staring me in the face a new, less desirable possibility came to light.

I pondered this question in dead silence, mentally arguing with myself in the hopes of eliminating this unattractive possibility from reality. The only noise to be heard was the soft, but violent hum of my fingernails clawing at my increasingly itchy wrists which not burned with pain.

_Owwwww, what the hell!_ I thought as I growled in pain I as lifted my hands up to inspect them. The palms of my hands were little irritated themselves, being covered in still healing stratches and cuts. As my eyes probed the damage and drifted down to see my wrists my heart dropped.

Huge, rusty iron shackles were the cause of a spreading rash on my wrists. My wrist on my right hand was in particular bad shape because the shackle was pressing my watch down into my wrist causing some disgusting, oily substance to ooze out of my wounds. I sighed, my stubborn denial was finally defeated. I was for some inexplicable reason, imprisoned. However, the question of the day still was _where_?

My cell was definitely old school and bore a slight resemblance to ones in _Pirates of the Caribbean_ movies or any other movie that depicted a character being incarcerated from that time period or any era before it. But really it was alot more like one of those medieval torture dungeons I ironically loved to read about. I breathed heavily, trying to calm my nerves. I heard a hacking sound that sounded like coughing coming from the cell across from mine and lifted my head up, approaching the cell door and wrapping my hands around the bars trying to get a better look at my neighbor.

There, lurking in the shadows was man who noticeably twitched. It didn't take a shrink to tell me that this convict was unstable to say the least. The insane man's head shot up and his eyes met mine. His _red _eyes! My eyes widened and I almost gave an involuntary shudder but instead , I doubted his eyes were really red, probably just a trick of the light and secondly I could not- would not allow myself to any show weakness to this creeper! He too stepped to the edge of his cell, as if evaluating me.

"What the hell. do you think _you're_ looking at?" I demanded, my dry throat managing to still force out words in threatening manner.

I scowled as his raspy voice echoed throughout the dungeon, its unpleasantness hurting my ears.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? An _Imperial _in the _Imperial _Prison, perhaps?" He squinted to get a better look of me. "Hmmmmm, you look like an Imperial, but you're a little too short, and slightly too tall to be a dark haired Breton." He released an irritated snort. " Probably filthy little half-breed, they threw down here to get rid of forever."

I had no idea what the hell he was talking and I cocked an eyebrow amused at his meaningless insults, but he pissed me off as I noticed his eyes drifting up and down my body. First he tries to insult me, and now this pig is checking me out! Fuming, I opened my mouth to retort, but was cut off.

"Hmmmmmm, what ridiculous garments you wear." He gestured to my ruined outfit before continuing.

"Oh my, you aren't a half-breed are you, little girl? No, you don't have a hint of that "Breton" magicka aura around you... hmmmm you aren't a Nord either, despite your obvious temper issues. But then, what else could you possibly be?"

That's it, I've had enough of this stupid game.

"Dude. What the fuck are you on about?"

You know what that asshole did then? He laughed in that annoyingly creepy, mocking voice again. I blinked, confused.

"Not from around here, are you. No that's for certain." His words dripped with contempt as his frown twisted into a demonic smile.

"Oh well. It does not matter what land you may come from or what you are, stranger. You are going to meet your end down in this godsforsaken hole all alone, little one. Oh. That's right. You're going to die in here, little girl. You're going to die." His eyes held a predatory glint to them as he took great pride to be the one to inform me of my impending death. How sweet of him. All the same, I was frightened by what he had to say but I still couldn't let him see that, now could I?

I humphed "Why don't you stop hiding in the dark and stand where I can see you! Or are you too much of a cowardly snake?"

He stepped into the torchlight of his cell. The light showed his face clearly. My eyes nearly bugged out of my head as an audible gasp escaped my mouth. Not only were his eyes actually red, but his hair was a disgusting gray. His hairline was already receding, although he did not seem that old at all. His ears were pointed to resemble sharp knives. But worst of all he was a dark, bluish purple color. Almost like a bruise. That thing looked like an evil, overgrown, disease ridden smurf!

"Gah! What the fuck are you!" So much for concealing my fear. He smirked.

"What? Never seen a Dunmer before? Perhaps you have heard of us as the Dark Elves?... No? Oh, well. It does not matter. Pitiful thing like you will be dead soon and I'll be out of here before long."

I just stared at him still in shock like a complete moron until the distant sound of approaching footsteps and hushed whispering grabbed my attention. My head shot away from the creature and towards the stairs where the noise was coming from... It took notice of the sounds as well.

"Hey. You hear that? The guards are coming. For you. Hehehehehehehahaha." It mocked before backing further into the shadows once more. My heart was racing. I focused in on what the voices were saying.

"_Baurus, Lock that door behi_nd us." A distincly female voice ordered with an air of authority to responded by deep-voiced male one I identified as "Boris".

"Yes, Sir."

"My sons... They're dead, aren't they?" I narrowed my eyes at the old man's voice which dripped with sorrow. I knew this voice. But from where?

"We don't know that, sire. The messanger only said they were attacked." The female voice spoke out once more, closer this time. I could see their shadows dance on the staircase.

"No. They're dead." The old man stated simply before whispering almost to himself. "I know it." The group reached the bottom of the stairs and walked directly towards my cell. I took a small step back but still inspected the group. There were two men and one woman all decked out in strange, steel, plate armor! They were heavily armed too, not with guns, but with katanas. I did a double take. What kind of freak show had I landed myself in? The old man was mostly hidden behind these people. But he looked like he was wearing a deep purple robe, decorated with rich white fur and bright jewels including a gigantic ruby amulet around his neck. He was clearly a king or wealthy noble of some type.

"My job right now is to get you to safety." The woman answered once again before taking notice of me. She practically growled in frustation.

"What's this prisoner doing here! This cell is supposed to off-limits!" She barked at one of the men.

"Usual mix up with the watch... err. I-" The man who was not "Boris" swifted nervously under his commander's judgemental gaze. He glared at me from out of the corner of his eyes, blaming my existance for bringing his incompatance under inspection by this woman.

"Never mind. Get that gate open." She ordered before looking accusingly at me. "Stand back prisioner! We won't hesiate to kill you if you get in our way!"

I slowly backed up and picked up my purse and backpack to avoid tripping over them. apparently the man she had scared was an insecure, power craving idoit, because I was almost by the window when he felt he needed to yell at me as well.

"You, Prisoner! Stand aside! Over by the window! Stay out of the way and you won't get hurt." I heard the jiggling of keys and suddenly the door swung open with a loud squeak. The rude man briskly marched up to stand over me before violently pushing me so my back touched the wall. His eyes drifted down onto my alien clothing, inspecting them with great curiousity.

_ Oh great, another pig that needs to put into his place. _I scowled.

"My eyes are up here, asswipe." I said, weakly. Normally I would have alot more fight in me, but I was tired, confused, and scared. I've never been very mouthy whenever I was sick, but today I was in a sitution which was fight or flight. And I ALWAYS fight.

His eyes shot back up to glare at mine and of course I glared right back, refusing to break eye contact as he growled.

"Stay put, prisoner." He practically spat. Now, I know I should be more careful. I mean, this guy probably could, and just might kill me, but when I see red, then it's full bitch time. And this guy was purposely being a jerk even though a monkey could see the pathetic, weakened, and even terrified state I was in. The fact he felt challenged by girl who just wanted to know where the hell she was and a little help was just sad. Therefore I had no respect for him. And tormenting him to the best of my abilites would prove an eventful day for me, if I didn't feel like I had to vomit. No. Im serious. I really did have to vomit.

The rest of the group entered, but I was too busy glaring and gagging back my lunch to notice what they were saying.

"Good. Let's go, we're not out of this yet." The woman said to Boris, as I aburply broke eye contact with the other man, now hacking violently as my stomach churned. Viola! My system had succeeded in temporary cleansing itself. There was my wonderful baloney sandwich arranged like an abstract masterpiece painted by a true artist. The best part?

"AH!"

It was now all over the grievaces of man I was previously having a stare down with. And yes, he totally just yelped. Like a little girl. Which in turn earned me the full attention of the entire group. It was friggin' _priceless._

I groaned in pain, clutching my tummy as though to tame the boiling fluids inside of it. If my sickness hadn't made me so miserable, I would have appericated the somewhat ridicilous situation way more. The man looked disgusted beyong belief before rage began to fill his very eyes with thoughts of murder. Uh oh. If he wasn't already going to kill me before, he was certainly now. His hand ripped his blade out of it's sheath and he raised it to my neck just about ready to run me through. My heart stopped. This was it.

"Wait! Stop, Glenroy!"

The man lowered his katana slowly. Disapointment etched deeply on his face as he obeyed, like a dog to his master. The old man had given the order. "Glenroy" backed away, and all the guards, after giving each other glances of concern, moved out of the way giving me full view of the ancient, kingly figure whose hand was rasied in a gesture which marked him as the savior of my life. The figure's luminascent blue eyes gleamed at me. He gasped with surprise.

"You... I've seen you."

He moved into the flood of light so I could see his face. This time it was nearly my turn to gasp, but I held it in. I knew this guy. But from where? and why?

"Let me see your face..." He said soothingly, before gently cupping my chin in a fatherly way and using his other hand to tug me into the stream of light with him. His blue orbs seemed to sear into my very soul as they made contact with my green ones. I felt very... _small_... compared to this regal man. His eyes widened.

"You are the one from my dreams..." He stated while his hand slowly pulled away and dropped to his side. He looked down solmemly.

"Then the stars were right, and this is the day." Sadness rang in his voice as his eyes looked directly back into mine, resolution etched in them.

"Gods give me strength."

_ Gods? Stars? Normally, I'd say this guy is crazy, but I'm already busy questioning my own sanity right now. Plus he doesn't seem crazy. ugh! Why do I even care so much! I just want to know what the hell is going on!_

"What's going on?" I asked, cutting to the chase.

"Assassins attacked my sons, and I am next. My Blades are leading me out of the city along a secret escape route. By chance, the enterance to that escape leads through your cell."

"B-Blades?" I asked dumbly. He nodded.

"My royal bodyguards. He turned and geustered to each of them. "They are Captain Renault, Baurus, and Glenroy." All of the guards looked horrifed and cringed as he introduced them.

"W-Who are you?" I studdered suddenly feeling a loss for intelligent words.

"I am the Emperor, Uriel Septim. By the grace of the Gods, I serve Tamriel as her ruler. You too, shall serve her in your own way... Might I ask for your name in return, young lady?"

"Uhhhhhh. I'm Nicole. Nicole Ballard." I stated, unsure if I should offer my hand to shake his or not. His hand grabbed the fringe of my ruined jeans jacket and he gave it a light pull as though testing its material. A curious look was written all over his face.

"And from what distant lands do you hail from, Nicole Ballard?"

"California. In the United States of America." I prayed he knew what I was talking about.

"hmmmmmm, certainly not of my Empire then. Perhaps from a different existence entirely." The guards looked confused and somewhat nervous as he said this.

_ Damn it. There's one more hope gone. _

I sighed, depressed again. Oh yes, I definitely wasn't in Kansas anymore. The feeling of hopelessness made me want to lie down and literally just die. The Emperor took notice. I felt his hand rest on my forehead, feeling my fever, as he whispered strange words to himself. A blue light radiated from his hand and a cool, restorative sensation rushed through me.

I blinked, surprised. There was no more pain, no more churning stomach. I felt great. How the hell did he do that? He smiled at me, once again with that wise, fatherly look that made me feel so much like a child. His smile was short lived, however and disappeared quickly.

"Do not fear, Nicole. You will find your own path. Take care... There will be blood and death before the end."

Before I could ask the time of day, the woman, Renault, spoke up again.

"Please sire, we must keep moving" She pleaded before pulling on one of the chains to reveal a secret passageway. It was kinda cool.

"Better not close this one. There's no way to open it from the other side." She mumbled more to herself than the others.

The Emperor looked back at me and nodded. "Come." He ordered before walking into the darkness.

I stuffed my purse into my backpack (which I had dropped when Glenroy shoved me into the wall) before slinging it onto my back. Baurus paused before entering the narrow hallway and cast me a look of very slight amusement. "Looks like today is your lucky day, prisoner." Then he too entered the shadows. I paused, breathing heavily as I was weighing my options.

Oh wait. I remember now. I don't _hav_e any other options.

And with that I too followed the Emperor and his guards into the blackness.


End file.
